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Author Topic: A Journal of Ernst Hemingway for if one writes then others might listen perhaps  (Read 2798 times)
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FirstAmongstDaves
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« on: January 21, 2014, 01:34:36 AM »

The island's mountain is a solid piece of hardened granite that has proven impervious to manmade efforts at its destruction but not to the periodic bouts of weather which have eroded small path ways up the mountain's flanks. I have climbed the summit many times and have done this primarily to engage to shargles which brood and pounced along on the thin pathways encircling the near-pinnacle. There are also bears. These bears are not related to the American brown bear not the black bear of Europe but instead seem to be their own genus primarily marked by a caramel-grey colour resembling the wood of the jungle and which for some strange reason induces hunger. Finally there are goats although the goats are not indigenous to the island but were almost certainly introduced by Europeans here as in other places as a way of stocking remote islands with food supplies perhaps before it was obvious that there were deer and other meat in abundance. The goats were also certainly used as romantic partners by some variety of pirates which plague the northern coast of this landmass and the people who live on it though the duration of affection on each occasion was almost certainly short-lived. I have never seen a pirate-goat romance blossom into a meaningful relationship although I am sure it happens.

I met a man who went by the name Mouse while on the southern edge of the mountain and Mouse took the time to bandage my wounds which were caused by the slashing talons of a shargle. Mouse is typical of hunters in this part of the world. They often say little but will attend to the needs of strangers in that manner which shows that survival is a paramount concern to all especially when on the mountain and in the perhaps irrational hope that when their turn comes for assistance then another stranger will be forthcoming.

I tried to ignore the shargles and instead focus on killing the bears. This strategy brought me much satisfaction because whle the shargles are freqent adversaries the bears are often hard to locate. Driving a machete through the sternum of a bear and having its heart stop, while dancing between its threshing claws is a skill which reminds me of a jig. Dancing is only a manly pursuit ordinarily while trying to ensare the opposite gender but my rudimentary abilities gleaned in Madrid and in Cuba repeatedly buy me enough time to baffle the beast and slits its heart. These creatures - and by this I mean bears not females -  are ferocious in the extreme and I show them no quarter knowing that the drive to kill is reciprocal. Perhaps thinking about it I also mean females but for the moment I talk of bears. There is a repitlian intelligence behind the eyes of the shargle which manifests through beak and claw and the rudimentary teamwork but within the brain of the bear is only bloodlust. I take grim satisfaction in ridding the island of these creatures. The fur of the bear is I should have said remarkably pungent and reminds me of cooking of a man named Aphetto Kabal who I met in the nearby town of York and who sells fake toothpaste made from sand and leaves.  Kabal once offered me some of his crab broth and when I swallowed it he laughed and said that he used the liquid to rid himself of syphilus and said that he would spit in the pot for flavour. I punched him hard in the nose and his blood splashed into the pot and he complaind that I had ruined his meal by causing him to bleed into his antidote but the punch resolved the tension and we have been wary comrades since.

While I slept eventually they all brought me down and so I took advantage of the grey magic of the shamans and returned to the coast.
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Neil Tathers
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« Reply #1 on: January 21, 2014, 01:41:56 PM »

You have a mean right hook, eh WOT!

~Aphetto Kabal
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Killian
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« Reply #2 on: January 22, 2014, 06:43:39 PM »

I was hoping someone would do a good narrative, very much pleased!

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They often say little but will attend to the needs of strangers in that manner which shows that survival is a paramount concern to all especially when on the mountain and in the perhaps irrational hope that when their turn comes for assistance then another stranger will be forthcoming.

For me it's to irrationally make amends for PKing the other half of travelers. My red cross is bipolar like that.
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Timothy Trust
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« Reply #3 on: January 30, 2014, 01:09:08 AM »

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Dani
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« Reply #4 on: January 30, 2014, 10:32:24 PM »

How come you're still using the old overlay?
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Shroombaker says “Who was it that was looking for Dani al..la-ka-zam?
Neil Tathers
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« Reply #5 on: January 31, 2014, 01:42:10 AM »

It's what I use.

SO Much better than the new one in my opinion.  New one is too cluttered.
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Timothy Trust
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« Reply #6 on: January 31, 2014, 05:52:57 AM »

All my original players have the plain skin. I just never updated the default skin, which my newer player uses.

I agree with Tathers that the default skin looks a bit cluttered. I think I'll create my own skin and try it out -- something with fewer sharp contrasts and easier on the eyes than the current one.
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Timothy Trust
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« Reply #7 on: January 31, 2014, 05:54:22 AM »

(Deepest apologies to my old friend Ernest Ibn Hemingway for Bogarting this thread.)
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FirstAmongstDaves
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« Reply #8 on: February 03, 2014, 02:10:20 PM »

Today I killed a goat.

I then killed some other hooved animals and a parrot. This led me to a road up-river. The river is called by some the Hazen River named after the dead Order of Patriot leader in York who died some 6 years ago and from all accounts was a chatty man with a penchant for uncooked vegetables and vanilla toothpaste. The road marks the border of the Raktam Empire which was a major native power occupying the centre of the island and which was ruled by a native scout with large breasts and her grumpy twin sister and who was seceded by a man who loved soft furniture. The intersection between the two is marked by the establishment of a farm by a man named Magnus Pike who seems to engage in experiments on fruit and explosives - a heady mix - amidst a party of mercenaries and farmers which is an interesting melange of personnel. It seems to me that the place represents the intersection of three circles in an elaborate Venn diagram with one circle representing the violent history of York and the second circle being the faded grandeur of imperialism and the third circle I guess exploding fruit.
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Grayson Hunt
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« Reply #9 on: February 05, 2014, 12:36:13 AM »

I thought I would share with you my last week of hunting and exploring. I gathered supplies to delve into the tunnels beneath the island. After getting lost quickly, I found my first giant spider. Their bites aren't powerful, but their poison is lasting. The rats are everywhere, allowing me to kill many within one week, approximately 30. As my first aid kits dwindled, the spiders were more vicious and their poison hurt my morale. In a vicious fight trying to either find an exit or survive one more day, the poison and bites of the spiders brought me to an end, but not before I killed the last one within my sights.

Grayson Hunt
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A true outlaw finds the balance between the passion in his heart and the reason in his mind. The outcome is the balance of might and right.
FirstAmongstDaves
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« Reply #10 on: March 18, 2014, 12:13:44 PM »

I have meandered to the west where I have encountered a scattered herd of rhinos. How rhinos came to the Caribbean is a large mystery. Evolutionists blame continental drift and God-fearing men blame a Russian zoological expedition gone awry and people like me scratch our heads at both explanations but in any event I find these things tough to kill and their horns cause me much grief. The beasts are moody and have horns disproportionate to their heads, not unlike Neil Tathers so the ladies say.

Before this I had gone so far by the tunnels system as to reach Derby exiting the the labyrinth by way of what was once called Federation Cave and enjoyed briefly the lagers of The Hanged Misfit which is a drinking establishment exercising control over the town. It is one of those rare creatures whereby the liver not the brain controls the immunological system of the body. And in the swampy bowel there are parasites picking through the . A tiger finished me off at the end.

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